Daughter of the Sea

V: Captivated

Elen snorted. "First you ask if I really want to be your lady-in-waiting. You're a lark, lately. Why? Do you wish it?"

"Sometimes."

"But you've been off. Didn't you get your fill of the mainland? Miss the sea?"

"I did miss it," Angharad admitted. "But get my fill of seeing the mainland, no. I could've stayed years and not seen it all. You can't think how vast it is - the distances between things. The height of the mountains." She thought wistfully of the Eagle, its stark, cloud-piercing summit. "I'd love to go back. But not only that. Sometimes...sometimes I'd love to sail west, away from everything, and on and on, into lands unknown."

Elen looked at her as though questioning her sanity. "West is Iwerddon; that's known all too well, stark-full of savages. Please tell me you're not thinking of going there."

Angharad sighed, realizing it was useless; Elen, practical and content with her station, could not fathom what she meant. "I'm not thinking of going anywhere," she said flatly, "but I sometimes wish I could."

"Don't you love your island?" Elen asked, low, and Angharad reached for her hand, stung by the note of quiet betrayal in her voice.

"Of course I do," she assured her staunchly. "Even could I sail to the edge of the earth, I would always come back. It's not hating Llyr that makes me wish to go...it's just...just wishing I had the choice," she finished, a bit lamely. There were no words for what she felt, this twisting in two directions.

Elen squeezed her hand. "I think I know," she said presently. "Sometimes a thing gets taken away before you knew you wanted it."

That was it...or close enough. The castle gates materialized through the mist, and Angharad reined up, hesitating. Elen turned and looked back at her. "You're not coming in?"

"I think I'll ride out again." She looked to the south, thought of the cove, wondering. "Do you mind?"

Elen shrugged, and drew her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "In this weather? Better you than me; I'm going to nap by the fire and pretend to sew. Shall I tell the queen?"

"Only if I don't come back." Angharad grinned sideways at her, and turned Tan toward the south. She wondered, a little, why she did it — she could have simply gone riding across the hills, satisfied her restless spirit with a wild gallop; gone on a hike through the woods to the east. But these things, though she loved them, were...familiar. And there was that, at the cove, which was new and curious and compelling.

When she arrived, the shore and its green triangle of land were empty, and would have seemed deserted but for the faint scent of the smoke of a turf-fire, the blue-gray wisp of it that rose and mingled with the mist. Angharad picketed the horse to graze in the thick turf at the top of the hills, pulled several parcels from her saddlebags, and hiked down the slope, admiring the view. The gray sky made the green of the grass glow all the brighter in contrast; at the far end of the cove the sea rumbled softly, muted, its dark surface mottled with whitecaps until it melted into the mist.

The campfire was black and dead; the smoke she had seen was rising from the chimney of the hut. She knocked smartly on the door, which had undergone a significant amount of repair since she had seen it last, and called out,"Geraint of Gellau! Are you at home?"

There was noise of a sudden scrambling within, and the door rattled and scraped inward. Geraint stood in the opening, blinking in astonishment. He looked confused and rather rumpled, his golden curls unkempt and his face badly in need of a shave. "Princess?" he stammered out, and attempted a clumsy bow.